


Cold Wind

by Outerspaceduncegirl



Category: Broadchurch
Genre: F/M, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-20
Updated: 2015-12-20
Packaged: 2018-05-07 22:57:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5473640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Outerspaceduncegirl/pseuds/Outerspaceduncegirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On the cliffs. <br/>Between S1 and S2.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cold Wind

**Author's Note:**

> My first Broadchurch fic, so please, be indulgent.

Miller and Hardy were standing next to each other on the cliffs. In the night were burning the torches, like guidance for all the lost and desillusioned hearts of Broadchurch. The far away flames shone in Ellie's eyes, like a reflection of the fire burning in her stomach. Hatred. Hatred for the man who'd betrayed her.

She didn't see the fires, she was looking right through them. Hardy was standing a step behind her, watching her, looking after her. She was not aware of his presence, had forgotten it long ago, lost in the trail of her thoughts. But the man she used to loathe and hate was there, and somehow had always been there.

He watched her, so small, broken, and so desperately sad. After the shock of the news, the tears of the first moments, she had composed herself, if only for her sons. But her composure was only a mask she offered to everyone to pretend she was okay.

Well not everyone. There was one man with whom she didn't even think about hiding. She could have as well been alone. Hardy was just like her shadow. And he was the only one allowed to see her as she really was : another person. The cheerful, smily, optimistic Ellie he'd met only some months ago had gone with three words.

_It was Joe._

And somehow, stupidly would say Miller, Hardy felt responsible for it, and guilty. He had taken it as his responsibility, and as such, felt like it was his duty to look after her and make sure she was fine. But she wasn't fine. So he was there, always there.

He looked at her back with thoughtful eyes and saw the smallest of shiver shake her back. The wind on the cliffs blew like in a storm, and her short curly hair was flying all around. Hardy squinted. He could only guess the bright orange of her coat in the dark night.

He walked the step that seperated them and stood just behind her, his left hand hanging close to her right one. She stayed still, unaware of his move, her gaze lost in the horizon. His hand barely grazed hers and he closed his eyes, taking in the feeling of the wind wiping his face and the warmth emetting from her body. After a hesitation, he gently caught her hand, slinding his fingers between hers.

At the unexpected touch, Ellie started and swiftly turned her head, tearing her eyes from the angry sea. She looked at him in confusion, but he was staring away.

She didn't take her hand back, and gulped. She saw the shape of his beard in the dark, longer than ever, and his hair flying in front of his brown and tired eyes. And then there was his hand, so strong and warm and _there_.

All of a sudden Ellie felt like bursting into tears, a bowl forming in her throat and her vision blurring. She felt distinctly inside her the stone wall she'd built to protect herself crack, and the fence falling down to leave her naked, weak, and broken. Hot tears ran down her cheeks, and she couldn't stop them.

A hand holding hers. That's all it had taken to let it all go.

And the thankfulness too. The gratitude she had for this man standing next to her like a rock. A dammaged rock, yes, but a solid one.

Hardy bent his head and saw Ellie's watery eyes fixing him. His heart stirred and he felt as if a stone had fallen low in his stomach. On his impassive face appeared an expression of pain and frustration. He couldn't help her.

The wind envelopping them was louder than ever, but it was nothing compared to what was going on in his mind. The rage boilling inside of him, confronted to the pain of seeing Ellie Miller break at the first comforting gesture, created a hurricane hurling in his mind. Yet, when he lifted his right hand to her cheek to wipe the tears with his thumb, he coudn't have been more gentle and caring.

Ellie closed her eyes when his hand touched her face, and she let him dry her cheek. It was like balm on a burn, like a fire in winter, like the touch of a mother healing a scratch. Her wound, which until then had been an opened cut, changed, and started its transformation towards a scar.

She opened her eyes again and saw him watching her with such care that she feared tears might fall again. But before she could do so, his arms were around her, and he was holding her tight against his warm chest. She hugged his waist and burried her face in his torso immediately, not thinking for one second about what people might assume if they were seen like that, or that it was an inappropriate behavior to have with your boss. She just let herself sink in the protective and reassuring embrace and inhaled sharply through her nose, fisting her hands in his coat. The wind was still hurling around them but the sound getting to her ears was muffled as Alec shielded her from all the violence. He placed his chin on top of her head and held her tighter.

"I'm here Miller." he murmured in the tempest.

They stayed like this until the torches' light faded out in the morning sun.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed, if so, tell me :)


End file.
